


Acceptance of Finalities

by Dreamkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Collars, F/F, Kidnapping, Mistress/slave, One Shot, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Prisoner of War, Voldemort kinda won?, smutty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/pseuds/Dreamkissed
Summary: Captured during the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, Hermione has been trapped in a prison cell she never expected.  After the war ends, she's dragged out to face her fate.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 5
Kudos: 162





	Acceptance of Finalities

Hermione kept her posture straight and confident despite having been stripped naked...nude, and bound. She would never give the Death Eaters the satisfaction of breaking her so easily or presuming she held any shame at this point. Despite the two Death Eater guards flanking her with her arms in hand, she marched down the hall as if she was merely being escorted. The ornate double doors at the end of the hall swung open at their approach, revealing a small court throne room.

Bellatrix sat half-slouched in her chair, one leg draped over an armrest. Wild tangles, manic expression, and torn cloth had given way to luscious waves, sultry charm, and body-hugging leather. Victory and time to take care of herself had returned her to her pre-Azkaban health and enthusiasm.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bellatrix twirled Hermione’s wand between her hands as violet eyes raked over her nude body. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

Hermione stopped before the throne and shot a glare towards her escorts and their hands on her arms. “Thank you, I can take it from here.” She raised an eyebrow expectantly, only to get a few chuckles and smirks from the gathered witches and wizards. “I’m standing here with no clothes, chained up with my wrists behind my back, I’m fairly certain anyone in here you could stop me before I made it halfway to the door. So let me go.” She turned her attention towards Bellatrix, waiting for her nod and the guards to let her go.

“Better, thank you, Lady Black.” She gave a slight not-even half curtsy, bordering on the edge between politeness and sarcasm. “Considering I spent a hundred and seventy-three days in a cell, I am feeling remarkably well. I appreciate the accommodations.” The comfortable bed, bookshelf stocked with books, regular bathing, treadmill, and quality food still was fresh in her mind. The isolated but good treatment confused her.

Bellatrix laughed softly and tilted her head, her gaze still lascivious and roaming Hermione’s body. “I am pleased you appreciated them, that was the intent. I am impressed with how accurately you kept track of time.”

Hermione sighed softly and rolled her shoulders, starting to feel some of the strain from the chains around her wrists. “I didn’t have much else to do.” She took a moment to look around the room, the health and mood, and the war room style table on one side. “I’m getting the feeling that this isn’t a social call?” She looked at Bellatrix, following her eyes, feeling her devouring her. “I suppose I’m a spoil of war?”

Bellatrix finally met Hermione’s eyes. She sat up straight in her chair and forced a serious expression on her face. “Yes you are, I’ve intended to claim you since we met at the Department of Mysteries. And now that the war is over and the Order is scattered and broken, we are free to rebuild.” Bellatrix leaned forward in her chair and motioned her forward with one finger. She kept Hermione’s wand between her palms. “I have time to properly claim you as mine, provided you can demonstrate your loyalty.” She twirled Hermione’s wand and offered it to her, hilt first.

Hermione stepped forward when motioned, but eyed the offered wand with an amused look. She gave her wrists a shake, making the chains rattle against the cuffs. “I’d love to, but my hands are a little occupied.” She ignored the curious murmurs and interesting commentary whispered around her.

Bellatrix shook her head and laughed softly. “You have your mouth.”

Hermione almost snarled, her eyes narrowed with more than a little displeasure. Hints of anger laced her words. “I will _not_ be your pet. I may be a muggleborn, but I am still a witch and a person.” She watched Bellatrix, interrupting her response before she could get the first word out. “I’m not under any illusions as to my situation, your Machiavellian nightmare of a prison cell made that crystal clear.”

Bellatrix waited several moments of silence until she was certain Hermione was finished. “Machiavellian nightmare? I would like to think your accommodations were not that bad, pet.” She laughed softly at the look on Hermione’s face with her last taunt.

“Yes. It was quite comfortable. But I’m certain you’ve studied psychology and understand how to break someone.” Hermione shifted her arms, reflexively wanting to cross her arms across her chest. She settled for standing imperiously before Bellatrix and her court.

Bellatrix leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at Hermione. The look she gave flickered between predatory and appraising. “And are you? Broken? I won’t lie, that was the intended effect.”

Hermione shook her hair a bit. She blew some strands out of her face before locking her gaze on Bellatrix’s eyes. “Probably, you tell me.” She snorted dismissively. “What do you want with me now? I’ve noticed that I’m standing here without a stitch of clothing and nobody’s eyes have strayed south of my jaw. Meanwhile, the last treacle tart at a Hogwarts feast receives less lascivious looks than what you’ve done since I stepped in here. I told you I would not be a pet; I have my agency, and always will. So what am I to you.”

Bellatrix set Hermione’s wand on her lap and reached beside her. From between her hip and the chair, she pulled an ornately engraved black leather with silver filigree collar. She held it up, dangled from one finger. “Mine.” She let the word hang with a haunting finality.

Hermione’s eyes dilated at the sight of the collar and what it represented. She nodded once after she read the expression on Bellatrix’s face. “Very well then.” She twisted her wrists, wandlessly and wordlessly casting _Alohomora_ to free herself from the muggle cuffs. She let them drop to the floor before she stepped up to Bellatrix. She smirked at the raised eyebrow that flickered between her face and chest. “I doubt you would settle for anything less than the best?” She held out her hand and looked to the collar. “Especially among your possessions.”

Bellatrix waved back the two guards, aware that Hermione posed little if any threat at this point. “One could argue ‘possession’ ranks lower than ‘pet’.” She placed the collar onto Hermione’s waiting hand. With a pleased grin, she watched for Hermione’s next action.

Hermione returned the grin, hidden just slightly by a challenging look. She fluffed back her hair and unbuckled the collar. Keeping her eyes locked with Bellatrix, she slid the leather around her neck and pulled it closed. She did not bother hiding the shiver shooting down her spine or the look of satisfaction at the feel of the collar’s weight around her neck. “My wand please?” Bellatrix slapped her wand into her hand before she could even finish the daring request. After a brief inspection, she smiled at Bellatrix. “I know where I stand, Mistress.” She closed the distance to Bellatrix’s chair and moved to one arm. With a confident poise and grace, she perched herself upon the armrest and settled in comfortably, even as Bellatrix’s arm slipped around her waist and the day’s business resumed.


End file.
